


Doubt's Lonesome

by astralprojects



Category: BanG Dream! (Anime), BanG Dream! Girl's Band Party! (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble, Emotional Hurt, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Short, Symbolism, Tsugu gets a hug, ventfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:53:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24707134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralprojects/pseuds/astralprojects
Summary: Tsugumi's suspended in lost time again.
Relationships: Hazawa Tsugumi/Uehara Himari
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Doubt's Lonesome

Somewhere in the distance, a lone traveler floats out of view.

She's levitating somehow, keeping her body there, yet not relaxing for so much as a second. An empty vessel kept afloat by the carrier of all the insecurities that have grown far too plentiful and mighty for her to remember.

The scene surrounding her is so familiar; she's never truly left it. She can ignore it for a while, get swept away by a sweet summer's dream, but the doubt is still there. It's always there - she doesn't know where it ends and where she begins.

Faces, distorted ones she can vaguely remember from reality, call out to her with their echoing voices. They're familiar as well, but they shouldn't be. She doesn't deserve to have stood by them for so long.

One in particular stands out to her. It's always shined so brightly, so differently compared to the rest. She can handpick that one figure out of a sea teeming with a million others, but she can't ever believe that it could do the same for her.

There's an invisible barrier there, specialised to torment her alone. She knows that those around can't feel it, but it's there: it feels too real to be fake. The glassy surface of that barrier is tinted, and she can't see all the way through to the other side, yet she tries in spite of it all. She can't take her vision from the blurry outlines of old friends beyond it, or she'll sink deeper than they can save her from. That developed scenery will writhe around her, suffocating her to the point of no return, until that sweet summer's dream can't push her outstretched hand far enough to reach.

Should that ever happen, she'll be suspended in lost time that's never been hers to keep.

Everything in her knows that the charade can only be kept up for so long. Those figures aren't like her, they're stars, dazzling and powerful, full of potential, while she's simply… Not. They play dress up with her just as they did when they were children, pretending that it's real. Except that they've all lied to themselves to the point of believing that it is real, and she's too selfish to reveal otherwise.

When she's taken away by that summer's dream, she can forget that for just a moment. A short, blissful glimpse into a different dimension when she's anything but herself; those moments are crystallised in her mind, preserved in glistening amber and stolen away for her entertainment only.

It's a one night show that drags on for a thousand nights more, playing and playing and later stopping until she's frantic enough to repair it and wind it up again, and then it plays on and on in a ballroom dance at a masquerade party where everyone's equal and nobody's lacking because no-one's able to tell any different.

But underneath their masks, they're all sneering - they can all tell that she's never truly belonged with them all. She trembles as their expressions contort beyond comprehension, running as her feet take her nowhere and the scenery shrivels and closes in.

That sweet summer's dream surely can't save her for much longer, not when she's trapped in her mind, not when she's too incapable to forget. The barrier she can visualise so vividly is impenetrable: for all but one. 

A touch and warmth that feels so foreign to her now that she's gone envelops her, carrying her away and holding on tight. She leans into it, the natural response overcoming all the hesitation, second-guessing and pure guilt in her shaking frame.

A hand wanders through her hair, and now the sensation is cooling. It's gentle, calm, forgiving, replenishing, and while it doesn't understand the extent of her difficulty or the complexity of her pain, it's still there. The figure cradling her own against her presses a kiss to her forehead, and emotions burst from its impact.

Each touch cries out stories, woes, and colours that she can feel instead of see, and she sighs from its importance. That presence is grounding, stable, unchanging; perhaps it's not a summer's dream and rather a lifetime's actuality, but she'll never see that.

Even so, it doesn't change anything. It doesn't make that presence any less sure of herself, or any less in the one beside her.

A kiss is placed again, sure to be followed by another. Her blessings are patient, relieving, a salvation from that nightmarish scenery, and she's not sure if her gratitude can ever properly be expressed or understood, but those blessings aren't going to stop regardless.

She's still suspended in lost time, just as she will be tomorrow and the days after that, but right now, she can be swept away in that sweet summer's dream reassuring her.

She can breathe and rest for a short, generous moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Hmmm I think I will not attend to Rarepair Week at all
> 
> This is an apology for the disgrace I made on Day 2. Take my offering, I hope it's alright.


End file.
